


Dance of The Heart

by Toshua



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Dancing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 00:16:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshua/pseuds/Toshua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dancing's unexpected consequences</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance of The Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally published in the digest zine 852 Prospect Place #1, in 1998. If you wanted to put it into a timeline, sometime after first season, before 3rd. The CD mentioned is real. ALL ONE TRIBE is great tribal, foot stomping music, by Scott Fitzgerald with M. B. Gordy, produced by World Disc Productions
> 
> Author's disclaimer: They don't belong to me. I just daydream about them.

The music demanded that his feet do something; it vibrated his legs, up his chest, into his heart, then into his brain, forcing visuals of some primitive animal into the forefront of his mind. He closed his eyes, listening, feeling, experiencing. 

"May I help you, Sir." The sales clerk interrupted Blair's entrancement, breaking the spell. She waited as Blair opened his eyes, looked around, dragging himself back to the real world. 

"What are you playing?" Blair blushed at having been caught totally distracted by the flutes and drums. He followed the young blonde to the customer service counter, waited with his fingers tapping the formica as she looked for the case that contained the CD that was being played over the store's sound system. 

"Here it is." The teenager handed him a case that boldly proclaimed "All One Tribe" across the front. 

Blair read the index, not recognizing any of the groups, but impressed with the different countries that was represented. He handed it back to her. "I'll take it." He was pulling out his wallet, looking for a $20 while she found an unopened copy. 

* * *

He hurried home from the university, his mind on the music that he'd heard at lunch, anxious to have the loft to himself for a little while so he could play the CD without worrying about disturbing his roommate. The primitive sounds pulled at something deep inside, something that was stirring more and more since Inchaca's death. 

Inside the loft he paused long enough to rid himself of keys, backpack and jacket, before hurrying to the stereo and putting on the new music. The bass drum started as he poured himself a glass of water and settled down on the sofa, eyes closed, listening intently. 

Fifteen minutes into the CD he was pushing the furniture out of the way and pulling off his sneakers, socks and sweater. He could not sit still with the pounding drums echoing in his chest. They demanded some type of response, some type of outlet to the emotions that the music pulled out of him. He found a leather headband to hold his hair out of his eyes and finished stripping down to blue shorts as a trill of flutes filled the loft. He lit candles, incense and a small fire. 

Standing in the middle of the room, eyes closed, he lost himself in another world and let the music guide his soul. The room disappeared as it became a tropical rain forest. He could smell the damp soil, the loam of decaying leaves, the green of tall trees, reaching for the sun. His bare feet moved along a well worn path through the jungle, leading him to a roaring waterfall that tumbled to the rocks far below, a mist bellowing up from the canyon. A large flat rock edged the waterfall, jutting out over the water. Lost in the music and his vision, he danced. 

Jim heard the music before he was in the stairwell, rather, he felt it in his chest. Drums, deep, bass ,primeval. They vibrated his heart, made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. They called to him, an ancient rhythm that someplace deep inside knew. As he got closer to the door he heard and felt other instruments, flutes, pipes, more drums. The rhythm demanded that he answer. 

He put the key in the lock, pushed it open slowly, turning his hearing down as it swung free. The lights were off in the loft, but the air was full of incense, deep musty smells, animal and jungle smells. Jim adjusted his sight, realized that a fire glowed in the fireplace, a heap of red coals. Candles sat on the mantle, each flame reflected by a mirror. The drums rolled through the air. He slid inside closed the door behind him, and after a second hesitation, locked it. He felt like he'd entered the lair of some animal. He knelt, pulled off his boots. 

There was motion in the room in front of him. A lithe figure was moving with the rhythm that pounded through Ellison's brain. It spun and jumped, stretched and arched in the dim light. Jim sat down on the floor as far away as he could get and still watch. 

The furniture had been pushed aside, clearing the floor for the dancer that flowed across the room. Jim watched, mesmerized by the sight. 

His roommate danced in front of the firelight, body moving to the music, spinning away with a high kick that turned into a spread leg jump that turned into a back breaking arch, hands splayed high into the air as the figure froze for a second, in perfect sync with the crashing bass drum. The drums pounded faster and Blair increased his moves with the drum. 

Jim watched. He knew Blair danced, had seen him dance his way across a dance floor, mesmerizing men and women alike. But this was his Blair, dancing to some primitive impulse deep in his mind. He had stripped down to a pair of pale blue running shorts and a leather headband around his forehead kept the long hair out of his eyes. The shorts were almost soaked with sweat and Jim could see rivulets of water running down the muscled chest, a sheen over the arms and down his back. Sandburg's eyes were closed, totally lost in what he was hearing, what he was doing. Dancing, for the pure joy of experiencing the music. 

The drum beat changed again, adding a chant. Blair's moves changed and suddenly Jim knew what his partner was feeling. Blair stretched out a long leg and froze, hands forward, head cocked, listening, then moved again, each placement of his feet in perfect sync with the drum. He suddenly spun, pounced into the air and made to run, before leaping. Jim saw the cat that he was, jungle feline, fleeing the hunt. 

In the next move he was the hunter, carefully stalking, long spear held ready, searching the tall Savannah grasses for his prey. Each step cautious, considered. Then the cat reappeared, slashing out before turning to leap into a tree, running full out on a limb, balanced, before leaping again. 

Jim watched as Blair flowed from hunter to hunted, as the drums filled the room. His partner was fighting now, against multiple targets, before falling, then sliding across the floor, one last desperate bid for freedom, before the hunters made their kill. The music died and all Jim could hear was Blair's frantic breathing, the heart that pounded as if it was going to explode. 

He forced himself off the floor, snatched a towel off the kitchen rack and then approached his partner, still draped on the floor, one arm (paw?) extended. 

His touch sent a shock through the smaller man as he slid the towel down the wet back. Blair rolled over, almost cringing away, before realizing who had touched him. His eyes were black, and he blinked several times before focusing. 

"Jim? When-?" 

"How about some water?" Jim smiled at the confused dancer, then pressed the towel into Blair's hand before going to the kitchen and returning with a glass of cold water that he held to his partner's lips. "Drink." He held the firm chin and tipped the glass, watching as his companion took several sips. "Better?' 

Blair nodded and sat up, finally running the towel over his face and chest. His breathing slowed enough to talk. "When'd you get home?" 

The cop shrugged. "Few minutes, half a hour, who knows. Blair, what I saw was, what you were doing, man, I never knew a human body could move like that. It was beautiful, it was, Blair, you were telling a story, and I understood it." Jim's voice whispered to a stop. "I've never seen you dance like that before. You were the most erotic thing I'd ever seen." His voice dragged off again. 

Blair struggled to his feet and Jim helped him. He grinned, a little shy suddenly, "I guess you might say I was living the music. What I was doing was what the music felt like." 

"All improvisation?" Jim was pulling Blair to him, taking the towel, wiping the lean shoulders and arms, across the furred chest. "You were a cat, a jungle cat. Trying to escape hunters. I saw it." 

Blair nodded, pulling the leather headband from his hair, closing his eyes as Jim wiped the sweat off his face. He opened his slate blue eyes, met the taller man's. "So, what did you think? Did you like it?" 

"I felt it, here." Jim touched his heart. "I envy your talent to see the music, to feel it like that. "Would you dance for me like that, on purpose? Tell me a story? Let me experience what you're feeling?" 

The slate eyes closed and Blair nodded. "I'd love to dance for you Jim, anytime, anywhere." 

"Now?" 

Blair studied the planed face in front of him. Jim had said that he was a jungle cat, but the Sentinel was the panther. Could he unleash that side of Jim with music and movement? Again Blair nodded. "Put on something you can move in." 

Jim hurried to comply. While he was changing, Blair set the CD to repeat 3 tracks, stoked the fire higher, added more incense to the burner. 

Jim came down the stairs wearing a ragged pair of black cutoff sweatpants, sagging low on his hips and nothing else. His heart was already pounding in anticipation. His erotic, exotic, roommate fired his blood like nobody, male or female had. He had never approached Sandburg with his desires, never thought that his feelings would be returned by this man. But after watching the dancing body move in the candlelight, he wanted to take the chance, had to take the chance. And deep inside, he felt that his advances would be accepted, and returned. 

"What do I do?" Jim approached Blair, stepping into his personal space, making the younger man look up at him, to see him as a strong body that was worthy of him. 

Blair felt the cop's body heat, almost taking a step back as Jim stood before him. The man was a bronze sculpture, every muscle outlined in the flickering light. He forced himself to take a deep breath, calming and focusing himself. He wanted Jim to enjoy this, to understand what music could do. 

"Breathe deep, Jim. Relax and open your senses. Hear the music, let it wash over you." Blair started the stereo and deep drums filled the rooms. "Smell the incense, and the fire's smoke. Let your mind's eye picture a jungle, put yourself into it. See the trees, the vines, the sun, feel the breeze." He watched the detective, felt the big man sink into an almost hypnotic trance. "Now watch me, and if you want to, join me. Let the music surround you, take you into the jungle." 

The detective moved away from his partner as Sandburg started to sway, eyes closed. The drums vibrated the floor against his feet, making the soles of his feet tingle. Blair spun and danced away, his body outlined in the firelight. His eyes opened and locked on Jim's, full of hunger and passion. His body moved closer, almost stalking the cop and Jim suddenly saw a hunter, intent on his prey. 

"Move, Jim. Let the music take you," Blair's voice was a whisper, as he stalked closer, arms reaching, fingers bent as if holding a weapon. His feet were stomping out a rhythm that matched the drums, a rhythm of the hunt. 

Jim moved with the drums, at first awkwardly, not used to expressing himself this way, then more fluid as he let himself go, relaxed into the baser emotions. He felt the vibrations in his chest from the drums, felt the wood against his bare feet as he stamped with the drum beat, smelled the jungle. His body was warm in the sun. There was a body close to his and he opened his eyes. It was a hunter, clad in a loin cloth, wasn't it? Together they stomped to the drums, the hardwood floor turning to sunbaked clay. They spun together, arms reaching into the air, asking for strength in their hunt. Blair slid away, body crouched low, as if searching the ground for tracks. He stalked and Jim leaped, kicking high, and the chase was on. Jim spun away, back arched to miss an imagined spear, decorated with feathers and strips of fur, then he struck out, only to have his blow deflected, turned into a long caress down an arm. His feet moved to a faster rhythm than the bass drum pounded out, nimble and quick as they danced, arms stretched out as if he was balanced on a limb, then shoulders swaying, feeling a breeze moving him. Then he froze, toes trembling to a drumbeat, heels bouncing against the rhythm that he was captured in, blue eyes locked on blue and he breathed a hot scent on the Savannah winds, a scent that enticed him demanded an answer. He slunk low, hands on the floor as he creeped to the body that called him, then flowed up to climb the long legs, gripping the slender waist, smelling the scent that washed over him. The drums changed to an insistent beat, like a heart, and the scent in his nostrils thrilled him. The body in his arms stroked against him for a moment, pelvis to breast, then pushed away, daring him to catch him, enticing him into a higher state of arousal. Why hadn't he recognized this dancer before? This was his mate, daring to tease him as the Savannah grasses swayed in the wind. He leaped and the body was in his arms again, back to his chest, bent to his will, before it spun away and pranced, enticing, eyes daring, body beckoning. His mate's hips moved, slowly circling, hands sliding down the wet, slick skin, then reaching, touching his face, fingers under his nose, curling against his lips, then palm open, offering his moisture to drink. The panther screamed in frustration when his mate danced away into the grass again, disappearing from sight, but not from his ears, or nose as he tracked his mate into his lair. The drum beat was harder, faster, demanding. The body under his was hot, wet, moving, when he caught it. He felt hands in his hair, breath in his mouth, and growled. His mate, his! 

"JIM! JIM! Come back to me man! Before you do something that you regret!" 

The drums silenced. The music stopped and all Jim could hear was his frantic breathing, his pounding heart in his chest. His eyes opened, looked down to meet his partner's staring back at him. The sapphires were wide, blazing with a thousand different emotions. 

Without fear. 

"Who are you?" Blair whispered, hands braced against the soaked chest. 

"Jim..." the voice wavered as reality began to filter back. 

"Who am I?" Blair's hands were in his hair, petting his sweat covered face. 

"Blair." His voice was a little louder this time, a little firmer. 

"Good. Look around, Jim. Be sure this is what you want. Because if it is, there's no turning back." Sandburg's voice broke, hoarse and rough. 

Jim finally felt his body, soaked with sweat, completely nude, draped across his partner's, both in Blair's bed. Blair was also naked, and Jim could feel the heat between them, the moisture that pooled on Blair's heaving belly, the trickle of sweat that dripped off his face, and ran down into Blair's chest hair. He was so aroused it hurt, and he groaned in pain. 

Then the smaller man moved and Jim realized that his partner was in the same condition, and he rubbed his hard cock against its partner, feeling the silk, feeling the steel. Blair arched against him with a hiss. 

"Be very sure, Jim." It was a whispered plea. 

Jim looked into the sapphire eyes. "Yes." It was a growl. 

"Yes." And Blair wrapped his legs around Jim's hips and pushed against him, pulling him down so he was completely covered by the larger body. His hands found Jim's face and pulled their mouths together until they were devouring each other, sharing breath for breath. They rocked against each other, frantic for relief, for each other's touch, for the blending that the music had started and their lovemaking would complete. 

A lone flute spiraled through the apartment, the notes carrying higher and higher until it matched the cries of the two men wrapped together in the small bedroom. A drum started, bass and slow, heavy in the darkness, joined by another, not quite as bass, and a chant that offered prayers of long life to the gods, for a soul that would find its match on its journey through life. 

The prayers were answered. 

Jim rolled over, and fell out of bed with a 'thunk'. He lay on the floor, eyes blinking, mind totally stunned with surprise. Where was he and what was he doing there? 

Wide sleepy blue eyes framed by tangle brown hair looked over the edge of the bed. "Are you all right?" The voice was as sleepy as the eyes. 

Jim looked at the face above him. "Blair?"  
"The last time I looked. Come back to bed. I'm cold."

The face disappeared, leaving Jim still on the floor, trying to comprehend what was going on. Jim pushed himself up on his elbows, then rubbed his eyes. He was naked, lying on the floor, in his roommate's room, from whose bed he had just fallen. He sat all the way up, which put his head above the bed and glanced at Sandburg, who was lying on his side, covers tucked around his shoulders, head pillowed on one arm, watching him.

"You okay?" 

Jim nodded, them pushed himself, falling onto the bed as Blair lifted the covers for him. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, and memories washed over him like waves. A soft head cuddled up on his shoulder and an arm draped over his waist. 

"Second thoughts?" The soft voice contained a trace of humor.  
"Why do you ask?" Jim found himself afraid to look into the eyes that were watching him. What had he done?

"Because you wouldn't be you if you didn't, man. Talk about leaping in with both feet." There was definitely a laugh hiding under the words. 

The memories rolled over him hard and fast. Dancing, chasing, attacking. Being brought up short by this man's forceful reminder of who he was, who they were. And then - he closed his eyes, seeing their passions playing out on his closed eyelids. He could smell semen on himself, on Blair, mixed in with the sweat. "How can you be so calm? I almost raped you, for God's sake." 

"But you didn't," the voice whispered in his ear, followed by a flick of a wet tongue, then the coolness of a blown breath. "We shared something very deep, very old. I don't know how to explain it. I knew who you were, what you were doing, what you were capable of." Blair raised up and looked Jim in the eye. "I wasn't afraid of you. I was afraid that you were so caught up in what was happening, you hadn't consciously made the decision to love me. I had to make sure that you knew who I was, that you knew what was happening." 

"I didn't know, not until you called me back." Jim looked into the sapphire eyes above his. They were clear, calm. He reached up, touched a long curl that draped the younger man's face. "I don't know what to say. I didn't give you a choice. I'm sorry." 

"Don't be." Blair lowered himself closer to his partner's face. "Will you freak out if I kiss you?" 

"It's a little late for that, don't you think?" Jim tried a smile, discovered that it wasn't impossible. He held his breath as a warm pair of lips settled on his. 

Blair's lips were warm, soft. They slid across his, almost shyly, before a tongue touched his mouth, asking permission to enter. The tongue was wet, hot, and unafraid as it explored Jim's mouth, flickering across teeth, the sensitive palette, dueled with its mate. Sandburg's teeth nibbled, threatened, then finally lightly bit Jim's tongue when it followed his back into Blair's mouth. 

Jim was lost again. His hands were in Blair's hair, wrapped around the long locks, holding the smaller man's face to his. Only the need to breathe forced them apart. They looked at each other, panting. 

Jim cleared his throat softly, trying to get his emotions under some type of control, no matter how megner. "I take it that you're not offended, or upset, about all this." 

Blair shook his head, his lips forming a wordless "No." He draped himself across Jim's body again, one leg nestled between Jim's, one hand wrapped around the firm waist. "Are you?" 

Jim shook his head. "Just - surprised. A little stunned actually." His eyes followed his hands as they stroked though Blair's tangled hair. He didn't think he could meet his partner's eyes just yet. "I didn't know you were attracted to men." 

"I'm not. Plural, that is. Just one man. But I never gave it a snowball's chance. I mean, who would believe that Jim Ellison, macho cop, ex-Ranger, would ever want to sleep with someone like me? I didn't. I just filed it under 'dreams to have when safely alone." End


End file.
